


To Have and to Hold

by Buttispams, lavendersblue



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Bubble Bath, Happy Sex, M/M, Mild D/s, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, PWP, Romance, Romantic Fluff, oh and ass-eating, otp: wait that's my word, put it in water and it disintegrates type fluff, they're just so in love?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25810648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttispams/pseuds/Buttispams, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendersblue/pseuds/lavendersblue
Summary: Nearly three years and two proposals later, the Big Week arrives."We're here."
Relationships: Chasten Buttigieg/Pete Buttigieg
Comments: 21
Kudos: 29





	1. Two Weeks Before the Wedding

It was a quiet Thursday evening in the Buttigieg household. Chasten had just returned from taking Truman on a walk and Peter was in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes from dinner.

“Hey babe,” Chasten hummed as he walked up to Peter, hugging him from behind, placing his chin on his fiancé’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Peter side-eyed him, knowing full well that Chasten had hidden intentions. “What do you want?”

Chasten chuckled at how well Peter knew him. “Well, you know how we're getting married… In, like, two weeks?”

Peter sighed with a wry smile. “I am very much aware, and I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.” Chasten grew quiet. He rested his cheek onto Peter’s shoulder “Well, maybe except for just one part of it.”

“Which part?” Peter shut off the water, toweled his hands dry, and turned in Chasten’s arms, a flicker of panic growing inside him. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Peter, of course not,” Chasten chuckled at his husband-to-be. “I want this, more than anything. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, good.” Peter’s face relaxed with slight relief, until his eyebrows furrowed in a question. “So, then what _can_ you wait for?”

Chasten bit his bottom lip, looking up through his eyelashes. “...Our first dance.”

 _Now_ he was confused. “What? But you keep talking about how excited you are for that part.” Peter ran his hands over Chasten’s upper arms. “You even spent three days making a list to find the perfect song.”

Chasten glanced away from Peter as he confessed his reservations. “Well, yeah, but, I just know how you are when it comes to dancing.”

Peter curled into himself slightly in Chasten’s arms, shooting him a flat smile. “You mean I suck at it?”

“I... a little, yeah.” Chasten winced at his own confession, holding two fingers up in a pinch for emphasis. He shook Peter by the hips, encouraging him to lighten up. 

“I mean, it’s not exactly news to me, love,” Peter joked.

“But that’s why I was thinking we could... practice?” Chasten replied, eyes lighting up with a glimmer of hope.

“Ah,” Peter nodded, finally piecing together Chasten’s intentions. “So that’s why you came here all cute and cuddly.”

Chasten rubbed the back of his neck, doing his best to seem innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm,” Peter sighed. “Love, if it means that much to you, then of course I’ll do it.” Like he wouldn’t jump off a bridge for this man. Learning how not to trip over his own feet on his wedding day was literally the least he could do for Chasten.

“Good, because I already have a song queued up in the living room.” Chasten grabbed Peter’s hand, trailing him along.

“Oh, we’re doing this now?”

“Uh, yeah.” Chasten responded matter-of-factly. “And not just tonight, you’re going to need multiple lessons.”

“Fine, but you’re finishing the dishes.”

“Fair enough. Now come here.” He pulled Peter against himself, putting one hand on his hip and using the other to turn on the music through their speakers.

Chasten slid his phone back into his pocket, but Peter just stared at him with a confused look. “Wait, this isn’t the song you chose.”

“I know, I didn’t want to practice with that one. I want that to be special,” he said with a shy smile.

Peter nodded, agreeing with the idea, but still quirked an eyebrow over the song choice.“So, we’re dancing to Taylor Swift instead?”

“Did you expect anything else? Now shut up and dance with me.”

Peter sighed, then put his hands hesitantly on Chasten’s hips, restlessly moving them around as he tried to find a place that made sense.

Thankfully, Chasten saved him before he could further embarrass himself and explained, “Put your left hand on my shoulder, and give me your right,” taking his hands and maneuvering them accordingly. “Just like that. And now, just… sway with me.”

The two moved around the living room for a couple songs in a simple two-step. It only took Peter a few moments to relax into the movements, the musician in him eventually becoming more comfortable with following the rhythm. By the end of the second song, he had successfully twirled Chasten in his arms, and was now holding him from behind as they kept the gentle swaying of their hips, both of them wearing amused smiles on their lips.

“I love you, so much.” He whispered against Chasten’s neck before spinning him back out and in again to face him.

“I love you, too, P.”


	2. Two Days Before the Wedding

Both Chasten and Peter were standing in front of their bathroom mirror, brushing their teeth before bed. Chasten rinsed his mouth out, then turned to face Peter.

“So, this is going to sound cheesy, but I want us to sleep in separate rooms tomorrow night.”

Peter spit out the toothpaste, before responding. “Okay.”

Chasten carried on as if he didn’t hear him, feeling a need to fully explain. “Just because I think it would be really romantic, if we just, like, came back to each other on our wedding night, you know?”

Peter rinsed out his own mouth, then mirrored Chasten's stance. “I do, babe. That’s why I said okay.”

“I know, but you agreed so quickly, I thought I should convince you a little more.”

“I agreed because the traditionalist in me feels the same, and I can tell how much you want this.” He stepped forward, wrapping his arms loosely around Chasten’s waist. “And in two days, I’m going to be devoting myself to a lifetime of doing everything I can to make you happy, so why not start now?”

Chasten smiled at him, bringing his hands up to rest on his chest. “Something tells me you started a long time ago.”

“Maybe I did.” Peter placed a quick kiss on Chasten’s lips. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short, we know, but the next chapter makes up for it x


	3. The Night Before the Wedding

Truman had already found his way onto their bed after following his dads up the stairs and was patiently waiting for them to join him, unaware, as a dog generally is, that he would only be curling up to one of them tonight. Chasten was adamant about sleeping in separate rooms the night before their wedding, insistent that it would only make their wedding night more special. If he was nothing else, he was a man who kept his word. Peter, thankfully, was enough of an old soul to agree (not entirely happily, but it was only for one night). Which is how they ended up here, halfway between their bedroom and the guest bedroom, pajama-clad and each with a blue suit hanging behind their respective doors. The lovebirds had been attempting to say “good night” for the past five minutes, but a quick peck had turned into a full make-out session in the hallway.

“Hey,” Chasten whispered, the corners of his mouth curling up in an attempt to suppress an eager smile. 

“Hi,” Peter whispered back, smiling at the child-like gleam in his fiancé’s eyes.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

“Gah, I knew I forgot something,” Peter teased. Chasten scrunched his hands around his love’s waist, where they rested, in response, making Peter squirm.

“Actually…” he trailed off as he held a single finger up, indicating for Chasten to stay put, before walking into their bedroom. Chasten waited, bemused, before Peter walked back out with a small, rectangular, dark blue box in his hand. The only response Chasten gave was an eyebrow raise as Peter transferred the box in his hands.

“What did you do?” Chasten asked, a bit warily, mainly at the fact that he wasn’t planning on giving Peter his hidden gift until tomorrow morning.

“Nothing, I swear. I guess it’s just a small wedding present.” Peter shrugged modestly and bit the inside of his cheek, looking at Chasten with an expression somewhere between stolid and eager.

Chasten looked between the box and the man nervously standing in front of him one more time before finally lifting the lid. As he inhaled a sharp breath and used every physical and emotional response to stop his eyes from tearing up, Peter softly explained.

“I’ve told you that I’ve been yours since 2015, and tomorrow I’ll say so in front of God. But I guess if I were to give you a physical part of myself... this is as solid as any.”

Chasten ran his finger over the scratches and bumps of the metal letters, feeling the ridges of the “BUTTIGIEG, PETER P. M.” and resting on the “EPISC.” He delicately lifted the metal in his fingers to feel the patterns of Peter’s fingerprint on the underside of the dog tag, a pattern that he’s felt so many times but now took on a whole different meaning. 

Peter was dedicating his life to Chasten, in every manner of speaking.

Too overwhelmed to speak, he gently placed the metal back onto its foam padding, almost as if fearing the sacredness of it would dissolve in his hands despite the fact that it was constructed to withstand entire explosions. He closed the lid, staring at the box for a few seconds, the silence of an unspoken vow hanging in the air before he cupped Peter’s face in his free hand and kissed him with all the emotional strength he had left.

As they came up for air after a few long seconds, Chasten murmured, “I love you. So much,” the words brushing against Peter’s lips. “Thank you. I don’t take it lightly, I promise.”

“I know you don’t,” Peter breathed. “That’s why I gave it to you. I already gave you my heart. I figured another piece of me couldn’t hurt.”

Jesus Christ. This man. He almost regretted their agreement to sleep apart tonight. Almost.

“Well now I _have_ to give you your gift,” he said sarcastically, trying to lift the mood from its emotional timbre. “It’s basically the rule. Give me one second.”

He went into the guest bedroom and rested the box on the nightstand so he could sleep next to it. He then grabbed another small box of his own from the top shelf of the closet before re-entering the hallway, Peter waiting patiently with a content expression on his face. Chasten passed it into Peter’s hands with a humble, “here.”

He watched Peter open the box and lift the gold—to match his ring—cuff links up towards him, seeing his face go from curious to humbled to awed. On the inside of one cuff link was an inscription of the date _08/28/15_ , where the other had _06/16/18—_ their first date and their wedding day. Peter pressed his lips together to keep from choking up; there would be enough of that tomorrow, he reminded himself.

“Do you like them?” Chasten asked.

“I do,” Peter replied. Their eyes met, both breathing a laugh at the unintentional phrasing.

“Thank you, love. They’re perfect.” Chasten gave a passive _it’s nothing_ smile, both of them knowing he meant the exact opposite as Peter put the cuff links back into the box. A smile grew on his lips at the thought of Chasten’s reaction as he posed a joke of his own: “Are you sure you still want to sleep apart?”

Chasten just rolled his eyes and smiled, not dignifying his romantic, silly husband-to-be with a response. Instead he leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, Peter’s hand resting on his hip.

“Goodnight, babe,” Chasten whispered as he placed a final gentle kiss onto his lips, before heading into the guest bedroom for the final time.

“Goodnight, love.”

//

Peter had spent the last thirty minutes tossing and turning in an attempt to get to sleep, but to no avail. His mind was full, the emotions he had taught himself to carefully push down for thirty-six years all bubbling at the surface with the events of the last two hours. The next twenty-four hours. The next week. The last three years. 

He sat up with a sigh and looked at his open door. He probably won’t get anywhere, but it’s worth a shot. And he really just needs to see him, anyway. Make sure he’s safe.

“Hey, love?” Peter stood in the doorway of the room. His face had a large pout on it, hunching his shoulders to appear smaller. Chasten knew that look; it was the look of Peter trying to look cuter than usual in an attempt to get something he wants from C. But it was late, and Chasten was not having it.

“Peter? What the hell are you doing? It’s the middle of the night.” Chasten had not budged from his position, only opening his eyes to glare at Peter, although it wasn’t visible in the dark room.

“I can't sleep.”

“Well, too bad, because I can.” Any other time Chasten would’ve given in and welcomed Peter with open arms, however, tonight was different. He really wanted this and his fiancé’s puppy dog eyes, no matter how cute, were not going to work this time. So, he pulled up his covers and turned to face away from Peter.  
  
“I wanna cuddle.” Peter pleaded further, even making his voice higher for emphasis.

“No, Peter, we agreed.”

“But that was when I didn’t know that it would be so hard to sleep without you.” Now he was just putting it on for show.

“Babe, please, just go back to bed. We have the rest of our lives to cuddle, you’ll be fine for one night.”

“Fine,” he sighed. As he was about to head back to their room, he let out a quiet, “love you,” taking one last look at his fiancé for the night.

He had only taken two steps toward their bedroom before he heard a mumbled, “love you, too,” echo from the guest room. He smiled to himself.


	4. The Day of the Wedding

Peter stood in front of the mirror, giving himself a once over fully dressed in his navy blue, three piece suit, straightening his cuff links. He was torn between smiling broadly, and anxiously biting his lip. He loved Chasten more than anything in his entire life, and he was more than ready to vow the rest of his life to him. That didn’t stop him from hopelessly worrying if something were to go wrong. This day has to be perfect. They deserve it. _Chasten_ deserves it, he thought to himself.

Fortunately for him, there was a knock on the door before his mind could run off too far.

“Come in,” he called, watching through the mirror to see who entered. He opted for a smile when Chasten walked into the room. Peter turned to face him and took a step towards him, reaching out for his hands. “You look incredible.”

“So do you,” Chasten said, ignoring the warm flush on his cheeks. “Are you ready?”

Peter only nodded in return, fearing that he tried to speak anymore his emotions would take over. Chasten let go of one hand, pulling the other to lead them out of the room, but Peter stopped him, instead pulling Chasten in his direction for a tight hug. He gripped onto Chasten, burying his face in his neck, taking deep steadying breaths.

“Come on, we gotta go.” Chasten spoke after a few long moments. He pushed Peter back, using more force when Peter went in for a kiss. “Not yet.”

Peter sighed, “Right, sorry,” with a coy smile, and allowed Chasten to escort them out of the room, smiles on their faces.

//

The day flew by in a blur, but the significant memories remained: being escorted down the aisle by their parents, holding hands at the altar, hearing the Obergefell v. Hodges excerpt (That was… emotional, to say the least. Chasten had clutched his hand so tightly.), the both of them barely able to get through their vows, that kiss that would send a shiver down Peter’s spine each time he played it over in his head (which was a lot), the second one that he went in for after the first ended way too soon, as well as gleefully crashing South Bend’s first-ever Pride celebration.

Between the ceremony and the reception came the photos. Posing all over the city, in the car before pulling off, on rooftops looking out and, of course, the ones where they briefly forgot themselves, too busy staring into each other’s eyes before leaning in for another breathtaking kiss. Several times.

And finally, the most fun part of all the festivities: the reception. Peter had never seen his mother look happier than she did dancing with him to The Beatles’ version of “Till There Was You.” Both him and Chasten had gotten way too into playing with the DJ’s setup later on in the evening. Them and their friends had also gotten way too into seamlessly picking up Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ On a Prayer” when the power briefly went out. And then came their first dance.

Chasten’s heart had leapt when the band asked folks to clear the dance floor “so that the grooms could share their first dance,” the opening chords of Allison Krauss’s version of “When You Say Nothing at All” playing out. Peter approached him with practiced ease and a soft smile, placing his right hand on Chasten’s shoulder and his left in his own hand. Not once did his gaze stray into the audience, instead looking into Chasten’s blue eyes, falling into their rehearsed two-step, his smile growing impossibly wider.

“We’re married!” he whispered excitedly, though more to himself if anything, as if pinching himself to make sure this was indeed his reality. All of it seemed so unreal—Chasten, a wedding, a _gay, church_ wedding, for that matter, with both sets of parents in full support, friends and family gathered around and smiling for them. He had hoped for this for a long time, but never had he allowed himself to indulge in its possibility to become reality. And here he was, with his deepest fears vanished and dreams he hadn’t dared to dream of when he was eighteen, coming true.

“I know!” Chasten giddily whispered back before Peter pulled him in, needing to feel his body close, until he realized he had forgotten himself again and pulled back—just a little. They swayed around the floor, letting the emotions of the song guide them. Chasten could sense the slight tension in his shoulders.

“Love,” Chasten murmured, “remember: this is our wedding. If we want to be cute and sappy, we can.”

“You’re right.” Peter let out a single airy chuckle and bashfully cast his eyes to the ground for a moment, breathing out a small, relieved sigh. He closed his eyes and lowered his head to lean against Chasten’s, breathing him in. At peace.

At some point in between the guests’ dancing, eating, and sharing of memories amongst themselves, Chasten and Peter decided it was time to have some fun, just for them. They first made their way over to the skeeball machines where, of course, Chasten bested Peter twice, a victorious laugh ringing out each time. They then moved to the claw machine and Chasten handed the reins off to Peter.

“Okay, win me the cute bear.” Chasten pointed through the glass, waiting for Peter to work his magic.

“Demanding today, are we?” he teased.

“Yep,” Chasten replied matter-of-factly, “I hope those two years were enough to get used to it, because now you are officially stuck with me.”

Peter gently nudged Chasten’s arm with his own, turning Chasten to look at him. He placed a soft kiss onto his lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Peter,” Chasten whined playfully. “I’ve already cried a bunch today, don’t make me cry over a stupid teddy bear.”

“Okay, sorry,” he laughed, turning back to the machine. In his usual fashion, Peter meticulously moved the claw around, only dropping it once, before it grabbed hold of the small plush teddy bear, and dropped it into the basket. By this point, the photographer had found them, capturing their gleeful reactions.

Chasten gave Peter a quick peck on the cheek and glanced at the bear in his hands. “Thank you, I love it,” he teased.

“I love _you._ ” Peter waited for a moment until the photographer went back out into the main room, then stepped right up to Chasten, trapping him between the machine and himself.

Chasten’s breath caught as his hands instinctively clutched Peter’s waist, a coy smile on his lips. Before he knew it, Peter had his lips on his, a soft kiss that made his knees weak. It was the first time they were able to share a true kiss in private, and Peter hadn’t realized until then how much he needed it. Both of his hands rose to cradle Chasten’s face as they deepened the kiss.

He had just slipped his fingers into the nape of Chasten’s hair and pressed himself flush against him, letting out a single low moan, before Chasten got a hold of his senses and pushed him out of the kiss with a hand on Peter’s chest above his racing pulse, leaving them both breathless. “Babe, stop,” he giggled. “We can’t do this here.”

Peter nodded in agreement, his hazy eyes refocusing as he caught his breath, pressing his forehead to Chasten’s temple. “Sorry. I’m not really sure what came over me... I guess I just needed to kiss you.”

Chasten felt a sweet ache in his chest. They leaned back and he saw Peter swallow as their eyes met once again. His eyes were unfocused, his lips pink and plump from the kiss. He looked beautiful. 

The little remaining resolve that Peter had disappeared and they both gave in. He dropped a soft kiss to Chasten’s lips, his nose, and his check, traveling to continue elsewhere, but was cut off by someone behind them clearing their throat.

“Sorry to burst this little love bubble, but the honeymoon doesn’t start until tomorrow, and you two are needed for toasts.” Lis was tapping her foot, a sly smirk on her face at having caught them. Mike was behind her with a smug smile and a flush on his cheeks, bashfully looking towards the floor.

“We’ll be right there.” Chasten offered. 


	5. The Night of the Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a monster to write (also 5500 words of porn omg enjoy)

Peter’s hands trembled slightly as he followed Chasten up to the bedroom hand in hand. They had gone through this routine hundreds of times, and yet the air was filled with a quiet anticipation reminiscent of their first time. They were tired, yes, but they still had some leftover adrenaline running through their systems, seeming to jump across their linked hands. The jackets had already been hung up in the closet downstairs to be worried about tomorrow, not once putting them back on at the reception except for their send-off. However, when they opened their bedroom door, they were met with a sight they hadn’t expected.

Their bed was freshly made (which it hadn’t been this morning, Peter forgetting as usual) and was scattered with rose petals. Placed on the dresser was a large unlit vanilla cinnamon candle with a lighter next to it, with two more on their nightstands, one on either side of the bed. If Chasten could guess...

“Wow. My money’s on Kathy or Eddy. They must have snuck in between the ceremony and the reception.”

“Probably,” Peter mused, shutting the door and taking it all in. It was simple, but it was sweet; romantic. “Maybe Mom gave them a key.”

Chasten turned to his new husband, the love of his life, and as soon as their eyes met, they laughed together in disbelief at everything, shaking their heads. A blush rose onto their cheeks at the knowledge that their friends had been in their room to decorate it specifically for their wedding night. There had been no shortage of cheeky glances and eyebrow raises thrown their way towards the end of the evening, making them laugh knowingly. Peter went around the room to light the three candles, casting a warm, inviting glow around them so they were no longer bathed in moonlight. As he lit the last candle and put the lighter down, he turned to his husband, and smiled.

Tension crackled in the air. Chasten smiled back.

“Come here,” he breathed, wagging a single finger, and they embraced.

They undressed each other slowly. Any other night, they would have torn off their clothes, not caring if buttons had to be replaced. But tonight was different. For starters, both suits were way too expensive to be ripped off. But more than that, tonight was meant for taking their time as their first night as husbands. Their bags had been packed the previous night for the plane they had to catch at ten the next morning. Anne and Joe had taken Truman for the rest of the week, picking him up that morning. There were no obligations and no need to hurry; they had the rest of their lives.

Once the vests and ties were gone, Chasten couldn’t stand it anymore and snaked his arms around Peter’s waist, Peter’s own wrapped around Chasten’s shoulders. They shared a few long, slow, deep kisses that filled their stomachs with butterflies until they came up for air to cherish the moment. 

Chasten rested his cheek on his husband’s shoulder and closed his eyes, just listening to Peter’s calm breathing, his steady heartbeat interspersed with excited flutters that he could not conceal. It made Chasten smile. They swayed to no music except that of the cicadas in the trees and the rushing river outside their window.

Peter pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the spot where Chasten’s neck met his shoulder, and another right above it, breathing in the scent of salt and cologne and _him_. He mouthed his way up to the spot behind his ear as Chasten tilted his head, beckoning for more. Chasten brought his hands around to blindly unbutton Peter’s shirt, Peter’s lips still working on his neck, hands moving along his back as if on their own accord. 

When he got to the cuff links he had to stop for a moment, eyes flicking up to Peter’s to see that fond expression on his face that always makes Chasten’s heart skip a beat. He removed the gold cuff link he had gifted to Peter only last night, the coil in his chest tightening at the memory, and pressed tender kisses to his wrist and the palm of his hand, before repeating the process on the other sleeve. He had just pulled the shirt out from where it was tucked into Peter’s slacks before he felt the undershirt underneath and breathed a huff of frustration against Peter’s neck.

“So many layers,” he mumbled, making them both chuckle. He slid the shirt off Peter’s shoulders and down his arms, letting it float to the ground as Peter brought his hands around to do the same to Chasten’s, finally getting somewhere.

As Peter pulled off Chasten’s undershirt and tossed it vaguely to a nondescript corner, he sucked in a breath at the sight before him.

Chasten was wearing the dog tag around his neck. Evidently, he had been wearing it all day under his suit. _Chasten_.

Chasten smiled and then pressed his lips together, Peter not realizing he had sighed his name out loud. Chasten’s knees nearly buckled as Peter leaned in to press a tender kiss to his cheek in gratitude, a tingle going down his spine at the sweet gesture. How he loved this man so much.

After he placed his glasses and the dog tag next to their phones on the dresser so he would not forget it in the morning, he sank to his knees and untied Peter’s shoes, stripping him of his belt and slacks, Peter’s fingers lovingly brushing through Chasten’s hair all the while. He reached around to dig his fingers under the waistband of his boxers, hands palming the skin of his backside underneath before he pushed the material down and to the floor. He pressed a gentle kiss to his hip before rising up to get his lips back on his husband’s as soon as possible.

Peter’s hands stripped him of his belt and together they made quick work of the rest of his clothing and shoes. When they felt the press of their bodies together for the first time in days they groaned into each other’s mouths, arms looping around shoulders and waists once more. Hands roamed skin, mapping the ridges and scars that had been expertly memorized for over two years. Chasten bent his knees to get his hands under Peter’s thighs.

“Jump,” he whispered against his husband’s lips, and Peter did, wrapping his legs around Chasten’s waist, ankles crossing at his lower back. Without stopping the kiss, which was getting more passionate by the second, Chasten brought his hands to support the small of Peter’s back and the space in between his shoulder blades and carefully lowered them both to the plush of the bed. 

When hips and groins finally, mercifully, ground into each other, their lips parted, savoring the feeling before Chasten kissed his way over to Peter’s ear, nibbling and whispering sweet nothings. He felt safe under the heaviness of Peter’s arms looped around his neck, loved at the calloused hands running through his hair, sexy when those hands--those lovely, talented hands--made their way down the expanse of his back to his butt, promptly grabbing handfuls to squeeze, encouraging him closer. A moan evaporated into the air around them (whether it was his or Peter’s, he couldn’t tell) and they pushed closer, their cocks sliding against each other in a way that made them shiver.

He pulled back from his love’s neck to breathe a husky, “Get up there,” nodding towards the top of the bed. Pete shifted himself so his head was supported by the pillows before Chasten slowly, seductively crawled up the bed and over Peter’s body, eyes shamelessly scanning over every inch from his toes to his baby blues reflecting the warm light of the room. Peter’s heart hammered at Chasten’s scrupulous surveillance of him, his breathing heavy. When Chasten’s eyes met his, his lips parted at the look of pure reverence in them. 

“You’re beautiful,” Chasten breathed, and Peter believed him. How could he not after watching Chasten’s adoring gaze, seeing the lust around the edges? He hoped he would never get used to Chasten looking at him like that. He was the only one who ever had, the only one he ever allowed to see him like this, to take him apart so exquisitely and open up a new side of him he never thought he would experience. 

All their senses seemed to be heightened. Every kiss, every caress, no matter how light, seemed to electrify the skin underneath, leaving it buzzing in its wake. Each touch seemed to leave them more breathless than the last. It was almost strange in the intensity. It seemed new. And it was wonderful.

The passion for one another was palpable, and they kissed like they had all the time in the world, like it’s the only thing they want to do for the rest of eternity. Peter cupped Chasten’s cheek in his hand, his other hand caressing his love handle as he fanned tender kisses over his cheek, jawline, the muscles in his neck, below his ear, making him breathe out an “ _Oh…_ ” at the warmth of his touch.

Chasten recaptured Peter’s lips, whispering, “I love you so much,” into his mouth. Peter whispered the sentiment back before Chasten pressed a single, sweet kiss to the center of his mouth. His lips traveled to Peter’s closed eyelids, the tip of his nose, his Cupid’s bow, his bottom lip. He dragged his mouth down along his neck, pressing a single kiss to the hollow of his throat, a nibble to the collarbone making Peter’s breath catch.

He stopped his descent for a moment after brushing a kiss to Peter’s sternum, flicking his eyes up to catch intense blue eyes watching his every move. Those eyes fluttered closed when Chasten leaned down to lick a broad stripe over a nipple and sucked, Peter emitting a sweet whine at the sensation. He repeated the motion on the other side while wetting his fingers to gently tweak the one he had just worked on, turning his love into a beautiful, squirming mess.

He kissed his way towards Peter’s half-hard dick and placed a soft kiss on the crown before sucking the head lazily, loving the way it throbbed on his tongue with Peter’s needy moans spurring him on. His hips were restless. Chasten could sense that he was trying to put at least some effort into controlling himself, although they both knew that was a hopeless effort. Chasten splayed his hands over Peter’s hips to still him, the only thanks he received in the form of a near-whine and fingers gripping the strands of his hair. Chasten’s tongue lapped over the slit before pulling back to lick a stripe up his dick, mouthing at his balls while moving lower still.

Peter’s breath hitched.

Chasten delicately ran a thumb over the hole, circling it a few times and spreading the cheeks to run the tip of his tongue up and down along the crevice before he _dove_ in, eating him out like it was his fucking job. He alternated between broad and thin strokes, circles and stripes, making Peter’s back arch off the bed before Chasten put a hand on his abs to pin him back down. He linked his arms around Peter’s shaking thighs to hold him in place and went to town, lapping at him unhurriedly, eyes looking up in adoration to see him absolutely fall apart in a lovely, moaning mess. 

They both _love_ this, Chasten loving it almost as much as Peter does. He loves how sensitive Peter has always been here, how if he tightened his lips around the puckered hole and just _sucked_ , with only a thumb and forefinger wrapped around his shaft to play with his cock could drive him wild. So he does.

Sooner than he would have preferred, Peter tapped his shoulder desperately, panting, “Love, please, _ah_ … come back up here. I want to be close to you.”

Like Chasten could say no to that. He let Peter’s thighs fall back to the bed and crawled back up. Peter was staring up at him in a daze, blissed out with blue eyes glassy with pleasure and hair in a rumpled mess atop his head. The image tugged at Chasten’s heart and something else running through his veins that he could not describe, so he buried his face in Peter’s neck and breathed in, pressing little kisses and reveling in his dear husband’s mewls when his tongue darted out to taste the salt.

Peter dragged him up for a deep kiss and moaned at his taste on his lover’s mouth. He ran his fingers up and down Chasten’s back, Chasten preening at the pressure and light scratches— _right there, Peter_. 

As Chasten nibbled on his ear, Peter reached over to the nightstand to grab the lube, blindly tossing it on the bed, not knowing or caring where it landed. The careless toss made Chasten laugh, knowing full well how far gone Peter was. Peter shot back a snickering, “shut up,” and pressed his lips to his husband’s, both of them smiling into the kiss.

They grabbed a pillow to place under Peter’s hips and Chasten coated his fingers, tracing one down Peter’s cock and around his entrance before pressing as Peter sighed, opening him up slowly and carefully.

Peter grabbed Chasten’s face and pushed his tongue into his mouth, moaning at the feeling of his finger working him open while using his free hand to play with Peter’s cock to help him relax, alternating between tight pumps and teasing the head. Their lips only separated for gasps and for when Chasten pressed a second finger into him and curled, consistently aiming at that one, breathtaking spot. 

His husband pressed little kisses all over his face as his fingers worked him open. Peter yelped against his cheek when he pressed his thumb against the perineum to lightly rub over it, masterfully turning his gasps into high-pitched moans with an eventual third finger turning his moans into whines.

“Love, I— _ah—_ I need you, please I—” his sentence dissolving into a moan.

“Are you ready for me, Peter?” Chasten asked in a velvety voice. He loves when he can take Peter from sweet kisses to a whining, writhing image. He looked fucking lovely.

“Yes love, God, please,” Peter grit out.

Chasten slid his fingers out and reached for the lube again when Peter grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his path to look at him, curious.

“I want to ride you,” he says, licking his lips once.

Sometimes Chasten really can’t believe his good fortune at falling in love with a man who loves to bottom. The first time Peter shyly asked to ride him Chasten had told him it was just about the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever heard. 

Playing with him, he asked, “Can you ask nicely?”

Peter immediately caught on, smoothing his hands up his husband’s chest and biting his lip in that way he knows turns Chasten on. “Please babe, can I ride you? I want to make you feel so good. Let me ride your cock, please baby.”

 _Jesus_. Judging from the tingle that ran from his spine all the way to his cock, he was pretty sure he had never wanted Peter more in his life than he did right then.

He nodded desperately, the breath stolen from his lungs at Peter’s words. They rolled over so Peter was straddling him as Chasten coated his dick and teased it back and forth across Peter’s hole. Peter braced his hands on his husband’s chest and asked, “Ready?”

He nodded and lined up his dick, groaning as Peter, ever so slowly, inched down until he was seated in the cradle of Chasten’s hips. He lifted his hips once, gradually, before melting back down, both of them moaning at the slick, tight heat. Peter was grasping him so sweetly that Chasten had to tamp down the desire to take over, instead sliding his hands over his hips, feeling every inch of his skin.

Peter set a slow, sensual pace as he rolled his hips in that way that triggered slow rolls of bliss that Chasten could feel deep in the pit of his belly. Emotional with love and gratitude, Chasten reached out to him and looped his arms around his neck as Peter leaned down to kiss him, their tongues entangling and teeth biting lips through their moans.

Between the fire that stoked higher with each movement from their connection, making them emit sweet moans, and the fact that it was their wedding night, created something so utterly romantic about it all, and Chasten’s throat felt tight. He laid a gentle hand on his lover’s cheek. Peter’s eyes fluttered open as he leaned into the touch, feeling the gentle press of the wedding ring against his skin. He smiled at the man below him currently looking at him like he’s an angel sent specifically for him; maybe he was. Maybe they both were.

“Hi husband,” Peter whispered, slightly breathless.

Chasten smiled through his moan, their hips never stopping their rhythm, eyes rolling back and arching his neck before looking back at Peter. “Hi husband,” he whispered back.

They briefly froze their movements as they were overcome with a bout of giddy giggles, oblivious to the world in the way that only newlyweds are. Peter leaned in to press his forehead to Chasten’s and they closed their eyes, shakily breathing in their combined scents, taking in the moment and the beautiful bliss of making love on their wedding night in their own bed.

Peter kissed him and began to move his hips again, picking up the pace as the overwhelming passion of the moment settled around them like a curtain, closing them off from reality. He swallowed Chasten’s moan in a deep kiss and they were off to the races again, Chasten’s legs stretching out on the rumpled sheets and involuntarily curling up towards them in pleasure. 

Chasten held him close to fuck up into him, making Peter shudder at the pull and tug of his dick trapped between their bodies. The angle and force of each thrust pushed sounds out of Peter that he couldn't hold back, his attempt at tamping them down between the crook of Chasten’s neck and the pillow fruitless—it just felt too good. Their hips met in a particularly deep thrust that made Peter's mouth fall open in a gasp.

“Do that again,” he panted, and Chasten did, drawing a sharper gasp than before. And again, just to hear the sound another time before continuing his forceful thrusts from before.

“Chasten, shit, oh my— _fuck_ , Chas—” Peter said between countless moans. He tightly grasped handfuls of the sheets and arched his neck, his eyes squeezed closed and ecstatic tears pricking at the corners at the feeling. “Yes—” _gasp_ “—that feels so good.”

Chasten sat up and looked into his blue eyes as he fucked up into him, somehow intensifying their connection even more. Peter closed his and arched his neck as he clutched at Chasten’s back, flying to grip his hair at each stroke of his prostate, wringing desperate moans out of them both every time. Chasten couldn’t help himself when he leaned forward to mouth tender kisses across the muscles of his husband’s neck, sliding a hand into his hair to hold him in place.

“May I?” Chasten asked, moving his hands down to grab hold of his waist.

“Yeah.” Peter swallowed, giving him a nod.

Chasten flipped them over, slipping out in the process and making Peter gasp. He dove in to steal another tender kiss before he pulled back to look him in the eye.

“Can I try something?” he asked, breathing heavily.

“Of course,” Peter panted.

Chasten smiled at that. “Put this foot flat on the bed,” he said, tapping Peter’s right foot, the leg currently wrapped around his lower back and Peter did, propping his leg up.

“Now give me this leg.”

He hooked his arm under and around Peter’s thigh so his leg was hanging over Chasten’s forearm, pushing it gently up towards his chest to open him up beautifully.

“Oh fuck,” Pete moaned, both at the prospect, quickly catching on to Chasten’s idea, and at the stretch.

Chasten just smirked and reconnected their mouths in a filthy kiss as he slowly sank back in. Peter broke the kiss to throw his head back onto the pillow at the sensation as Chasten bottomed out, feeling him so much deeper than he was before.

“How does that feel?” Chasten asked, pulling out once and slowly sliding back in, the movement fucking exquisite to both of them.

“You’re so deep, I—oh my God,” Peter sighed, closing his eyes to savor the feeling.

“Hmm, good,” Chasten grinned and began to fuck him in earnest.

The sound of skin slapping on skin and their moans filled the room. Chasten sucked on Peter’s neck and jawline, making him whine at the sweet feel of lips on skin. It wasn’t long before Peter felt the familiar heat that had been gradually pooling in the pit of his stomach, his insides tightening in that lovely way. Chasten changed the angle and plunged back in, a wordless shout emitting from Peter’s lips as he brushed his prostate without relent. 

It was threatening to overwhelm them. He dug his short nails down Chasten’s shoulders, sure to leave lines but not caring at the moment, making him part his lips against his neck in a gasp as their breaths grew shallower, quicker. Exhales of expletives and _oh my God_ s stringing from their lips uncontrollably. Chasten took his wrists in each hand and pinned them down on either side of his head, bringing his thigh that was still hooked over his lover’s arm closer to his chest in the process and he keened at the stretch. The new immobility caused Peter’s leaking cock to throb as it bounced against his belly. The bed might have been banging against the wall, but they were too far gone to notice.

“Babe, please…” Peter whined.

“Please what?”

A particularly deep thrust against that spot made him clench up and Chasten drew a sharp gasp, the tight hot feel of his husband in ecstasy underneath him performing wonders for him.

“Please touch me, love. God, please, I’m— _shit—_ I’m so close.”

Chasten freed a wrist and got his hand on Peter, rock hard and leaking onto his belly. Peter gasped helplessly, that wonderful coil tightening in his abdomen ever more.

“That feels so—that—I—” cutting himself off with a loud moan, too blissed out to form any more words except incoherent noises of pleasure.

“Yeah, you like that?” Chasten teased. Peter keened.

“Please don’t stop,” he grit out, between gulps of breath.

His head was thrown back, the hand not being pinned down tightly clutching handfuls of the pillow, his knuckles nearly white. It only took a couple more firm strokes combined with his lover hitting his prostate on every other thrust before time seemed to still, all other noise silenced; then the cliff. 

“Let go, baby,” Chasten said into his mouth. He arched his back and came all over his belly and Chasten’s hand. 

Toes curling in ecstasy, he knew that he was moaning, nearly shouting, so loud and not caring because no one could hear them but the old walls of their house. It felt so fucking divine that he suddenly felt overcome by a wave of vehement emotions, strong enough to make his eyes water again. He clutched at Chasten, his thighs shaking. Chasten stroked him through his orgasm, the tightening of Peter’s walls around him pushing him right to the edge, belly going tight and muscles bunching. 

Peter had barely come down before he clenched his cheeks around the hard length still fucking him and used what little strength he had left to shakily reach up and tweak a hardened nipple. Chasten hissed a curse, the pleasurable sensations too much, then shivered and came, sobbing into his mouth, every nerve ending positively on fire.

When Chasten came back to earth and heavily opened his eyes, lifting his head out of the crook of his husband’s neck, he realized that Peter’s cheeks were wet. After withdrawing delicately, his hands worriedly cupped his face, his thumb brushing away a tear.

“Sweetheart did I hurt you? What’s wrong, love?”

“No, you’re fine baby. I just…” He trailed off, trying to catch his breath which was proving to be quite difficult given how raw his chest felt.

“I think I’m just... a bit overwhelmed. You didn’t hurt me, don’t worry.”

Chasten knew there was more, so he waited and rolled them over to hold Peter to his chest as they both came down from the high, trembling through their aftershocks. 

Peter looked up at him and reached up to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing tenderly over the skin. He felt vulnerable, even more than he had been just two minutes ago, and he couldn’t explain why. He was here, in his bed that had become _their_ bed—now their marriage bed—staring up at his husband, more in love than he could ever remember. The last few years caught up to him in a rush.

Only five years ago, he was woefully set on the simple fact that as long as he wanted to continue his work in public service, he would be forced to hide who he was from the public, his friends. He had never even told his parents, not out of fear that they would reject him, given their progressive philosophies, but more out of the knowledge that each time he went over for family dinner, he would have to watch the light in his mother’s eyes dim a little more with each month that passed at his answer to the question he knew would come: Is there someone? 

And now here they were: with marriage equality the law of the land by the grace of a single vote, loved and accepted by his family and his community, asked to serve a second term for his hometown with eighty percent of the vote, in-laws who called him “son,” and a beautiful husband who teased him about his clothes and his dad jokes, made him laugh harder than he ever had in his life, worked harder than anyone he had ever met to let people know that they matter, patiently took care of him and made him feel safe when they were exploring intimacy, and promised to love and cherish him forever in front of God only a few hours ago, whose chest he was currently cuddled into after consummating their _marriage_. 

He made it. The weight of the ring on his left hand proved it so.

As the heartstrings in his chest twisted and tugged, a tear escaped the corner of his eye. He drew a deep gasp and that was it. The tears flowed freely as he closed his eyes and buried his face in Chasten’s neck.

“Hey, shhh,” Chasten murmured, scrunching his eyebrows in concern. After just under three years, he could usually read Peter like an open book. The few times when he had difficulty, like right now, caught him off-guard, to say the least. He gently shushed him again and brought his hand up from Peter’s back to pet his head, carding his fingers through the strands and scratching, doing his best to be a comfort to his beautiful, selfless, too-hard-on-himself husband.

“It’s okay, love. I’m here.” He pressed kisses to his head and continued his caresses and murmurs of sweet nothings until Peter’s tears ran out, one hand in his hair with the other rubbing his back. He would always be here. _Always_.

After a little bit Peter lifted his head from the warmth of Chasten’s now wet neck and wiped his face, embarrassed at his emotional onslaught, although he knew he had no reason to be. It was Chasten, after all. His husband. His sweet husband who was currently looking down at him with obvious concern all over his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, drying his cheeks.

“It’s okay, love.” He could tell Peter was trying to form the right words, but he didn’t know how. So he kept petting his hair and giving him time.

“It’s just, I—” Peter tried to start, laughing in disbelief. He shook his head to himself and tried again. “I didn’t think I… would ever have a wedding night.”

Their eyes met.

Chasten sucked in a breath. It wasn’t that they never thought they would have the ability to legally marry whom they loved, or that they would never find their soulmate. It was that they never thought they would live to.

_“If there was a pill…”_

Chasten blinked back tears of his own, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Don’t make _me_ cry,” he muttered.

They flashed a watery smile at each other.

“We’re here,” Peter whispered.

“We’re here.”

They kissed, chaste and sweet. They’re here.

They laid there together, their breathing returning to normal, basking in the afterglow when Chasten couldn’t help himself.

“How do you feel?” he murmured.

“My legs—my entire lower half, actually,” Peter sighed with a smirk, still trying to catch his breath, “feel like…heavy noodles.”

Chasten barely held back a snort of laughter and raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Heavy. Noodles?” he repeated with a smile in his voice, utterly delighted at the image of his usually well spoken husband so thoroughly debauched that he was at a loss for articulate words.

“Yes,” Pete laughed. “But also like… like I’m floating.” If Chasten wasn’t so sated, his belly would have ached at the sigh Peter let out on the last word in that sentence that came out dangerously close to a moan.

“Yeah?” Chasten asked, biting the corner of his lip.

“Yeah. Love, that was… just—” Peter laughed breathlessly, rubbing his hand over his face before continuing, “Fuck. I think you fucked all sense of the English language out of me.” 

Chasten giggled with him wearing a humbled but proud grin at his husband’s speechlessness. Peter rested his arm over Chasten’s middle, walking two of his fingers up his new husband’s chest before softly dragging them back down an inch and repeating the sensual gesture all over again. Chasten placed a warm hand in the space between Peter’s shoulder blades, faintly able to feel his hammering heartbeat.

“Your heart’s still racing,” he breathed.

“It’s slowing down,” Peter dazedly responded, still idly walking his two fingers up and down Chasten’s chest. Chasten felt him shake his head a little before he continued his train of thought from before, still trying to find an adequate response to Chasten’s unanswered question.

“That was just…” Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally settling on an answer:

“...the best.”

He swallowed and looked up at Chasten with the most earnest expression.

The best. Two simple words that held so much meaning. Chasten was genuinely touched.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

Peter nodded, still gazing at him like he had never been so emotionally and physically satisfied in his life. 

Well. He was. He just said so.

They laid there a few comfortable minutes twisted in the bed sheets, trading tender caresses and sweet kisses along jawlines, chests, necks. Rose petals were crumpled and strewn across the bed and the floor from their rolling around. Eventually, Chasten looked over at the time and sighed.

“Do you want to take a shower now or in the morning?”

Their flight was at ten, and Chasten’s parents were picking them up at seven thirty to drop them off at the airport before heading back to Traverse. They would need to be up by seven, at the latest. That wasn’t… terrible.

“Leave it ‘til the morning,” Peter sighed. Then he huffed a laugh. “Honestly babe? I don’t think I can move right now.”

That made Chasten laugh, which made Peter laugh, and they were lost again in a fit of carefree giggles.

“Stay here,” Chasten said once they calmed down, pressing a kiss to his head and getting two damp towels from the bathroom. He cleaned them both up and handed his husband a glass of water that Peter hadn’t seen him bring in. He glanced at the glass and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Isn’t this the glass you use to wash out your mouth after you brush your teeth?”

He could not be serious.

“Yeah,” Chasten deadpanned, “and you just had your tongue in my mouth for the last hour after I had mine in your ass. What’s your point?”

The ridiculousness of it all, combined with the fact that they were both very much still blissed out, made them laugh harder than they should have. Peter gulped down the water and smiled at him with that look that always made Chasten’s knees weak. God, he was so in love with him.

After making sure their alarms were set and blowing out the flickering candles, Chasten pulled Peter onto his chest to ensure there wasn’t an inch of space between them, legs entangled and a head tucked under a chin. Right before they finally let the physical exhaustion of the day take over, Peter whispered a quiet, “Love you, husband,” into Chasten’s neck. Chasten breathed an airy laugh and whispered a giddy, “Love you, husband,” back into Peter’s hair, finally succumbing to sleep with smiles on both of their faces.

Husbands. That was a feeling they could get used to.


	6. The Second Day of the Honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cue the "prepare for fluff so sweet it'll disintegrate in water within seconds" tag

“Let’s take a bath.”

Peter raised his eyebrows.

It was just on the other side of eight in the evening, and the couple had just walked back from having dinner. Strolling back through the sunset in comfortable silence, they each had been contemplating what to do for the rest of the night. They didn’t want to just watch T.V., but they also weren’t really in the mood for sex, feeling just a bit too lethargic from the sun and full bellies. That was when Chasten had an idea as soon as he closed the door to their room behind them.

“Like, together?”

Chasten rolled his eyes. “Yes, Peter, ‘like together’.”

“I don’t know, that sounds a bit icky.”

“What? No, it’s romantic.”

“I don’t see how sitting in a tub soaking in each other’s dirt is romantic,” he deadpanned.

Chasten made a face. “Ew, why do you have to say it like that?” _This man_. He rolled his eyes again and lightly shook his head. 

“It’s romantic, because it’ll be just the two of us pressed against each other...” he lowered his voice, circling behind Peter and slinking an arm across his chest. “...completely relaxed…” A kiss to his neck, a palm on his middle. “...maybe with a little champagne...”

“I… suppose that doesn’t sound… too bad,” Peter breathed, his voice shaky, expertly taken apart. His husband had barely touched him yet, and he was already putty in his hands.

“Hmm, I thought so.” Another kiss. “Besides, this tub is huge. We could never do this in our bath at home.”

Peter sighed in content, leaning into the feel of his husband’s lips on his neck. He could never resist Chasten when he had his lips on his neck, something that Chasten had taken advantage of more than once. “Okay, we can do that,” he agreed. “But tomorrow I get to decide how we spend our evening.”

“Mmm, something tells me I won’t have any complaints,” Chasten purred, gently worrying his earlobe between his teeth.

“Why would you? I was thinking we’ll open up a bottle of wine, get comfortable under the covers… and then binge watch the entire first season of Star Trek: The Next Generation.”

Pete laughed at the remarkable speed at which Chasten’s face fell flat and appropriately unamused.

“I swear to God, if Sir Patrick Stewart makes his way into our conversations one more time on our honeymoon, I will personally find a way to get him to pay for this hotel room.”

“Of that I have no doubt, babe.”

Chasten narrowed his eyes, trying to wipe the smug grin off Peter’s lips. “Just get in the tub, Peter.”

//

One of the perks of checking into this hotel as newlyweds: a bottle of champagne on ice, on the house, waiting for them in their hotel room, and about four or five tiny candles perched on one of the nightstands. Marriage was treating them pretty well, so far. It was also a very nice hotel.

Which is how they found themselves in their giant, claw-foot tub filled up to their chests, Peter’s back laying against Chasten’s front, with candlelight flickering around them as the only light source and two complimentary flutes of champagne from a near-empty bottle in their hands. Bonus: Chasten had found the bubble bath.

“Come on, it’ll be cute!” he had explained with an excited smile, both of them standing in their robes on the marble floor.

“Babe,” Peter deadpanned, a hint of an amused smile that he couldn’t hold back at Chasten’s child-like giddiness tugging at his lips.

“It’ll be _fun_ , you Eeyore.” He stepped closer so they were chest to chest, and smoothly slid a hand along the side of Peter’s neck, thumb resting on his jaw. He felt Peter gulp. “I’ll make it fun; I promise,” he had murmured against his lips.

Peter smirked.

And now they were up to their chests in bubbles as well. Chasten had his arm resting along the side of the tub, fingers dangling over and contently entangled with Peter’s bubble covered ones just poking out of the warm water. They were already feeling lazy from the day’s sun and their dinner, and the champagne held in their other hands was making them even more sleep-warm.

“Alright,” Peter sighed, head relaxed on his husband’s shoulder. “This is nice.”

Chasten smiled. “Told you.”

Peter gave a lazy hum of agreement and took another sip from his glass.

It _was_ nice. Chasten had always been a physical comfort to Peter, cuddling when one of them, or both of them, needed it or when neither of them needed it but simply loved being close. But this was ethereal. Sitting in a gorgeous marble tub, bodies intimately pressed together with no intentions other than to bask in the quiet luxury surrounding them, on their _honeymoon_ , of all things. It really could not get better than this.

“What do you think we should do tomorrow?” Chasten asked, taking a sip from his glass.

Peter turned his head to look up at him, a smug grin on his lips.

“ _Other_ than staying in bed until twelve,” Chasten said, rolling his eyes. Peter just chuckled and leaned his head back again.

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s a hiking trail or two around here that we could check out.”

Chasten hummed in agreement. It would be nice to get off the resort for a little bit. “We might have to get up a little earlier then. Beat the midday heat and all that.”

“Huh. That is true.” Peter hadn’t thought about that. He scrunched his mouth to one side in thought. “Maybe we should only stay in bed until ten, then.”

“If we don’t want to suffer later, yeah, probably,” Chasten agreed. “I’m sure someone in the main lobby has some suggestions. Concierge or someone.”

“Mhmm,” Peter hummed. They agreed to get up at around ten so they could grab a quick breakfast before heading out, possibly going to the beach afterwards to cool off. Good. At least tomorrow’s plans were settled.

“You know,” Chasten mused, trying to sound nonchalant, “if we really wanted to, we could get up super early later on in the week and head to that spot the receptionist told us about where folks hang out to watch the sunrise.”

Peter grimaced. He really didn’t want to get up earlier than he absolutely had to this week. “We’d have to get up at, like, six for that.”

Chasten made a face. “You get up at five-thirty nearly every day to go on a run before you head to work. This would be later than that.”

“True,” Peter agreed, “but I’m also on vacation.”

The bathroom was quiet for a few moments before Peter sighed to himself, knowing that a quiet Chasten meant he had something on his mind. He looked up at him to see that his husband was already carefully watching his face.

Peter let out another sigh. Smiled knowingly, reading his husband’s mind. “You really want to watch the sunrise, don’t you?”

Now it was Chasten’s turn to grimace at having been caught. He should have known. He usually couldn’t get much past Peter. “Kind of. Yeah. But only if you want,” he was quick to add. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

Peter gave a dramatic sigh to let him know he was fine with it, smiling teasingly and saying, “I _guess_ we could get up early on Wednesday to watch the sunrise…”

Chasten’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes,” Peter laughed.

“Cool,” he said happily, a grin on his face. He felt Peter titter against his chest. He thought back to what he said earlier about Peter getting up early before heading to work. “The office hasn’t called you yet, right?”

“Ha, no. I made it as clear as I possibly could not to contact me until I walk in next Monday.”

“Hm. Good. Cheers to that,” Chasten said, and they clinked glasses, downing what little was left of their champagne. Chasten unlinked his hand from Peter’s and took their glasses, leaning over to place them on the floor next to the tub before relaxing further down into the bubbles, Peter leaning back against him once more. He snaked his arms around his love’s shoulders, scratching lightly at his chest. Peter brought his hands up out of the water from where they were resting on Chasten’s knees to clutch onto his forearms and in tandem they breathed out a content sigh, Peter letting his eyes fall shut.

Chasten loved seeing Peter like this: completely relaxed, defenses let down so beautifully where he could close his eyes and just _be_. He was constantly working, even when he didn’t mean to be, but within the first few months of dating, Chasten quickly realized that Peter worked so much precisely because he cared so much. His city, and the people in it, were his world. It was a rare treat when he got Peter like this all to himself, with nothing on his mind except how Chasten’s skin felt under his touch, mindlessly tracing patterns over his forearms with a happy little subconscious smile on his face. He pressed a kiss to his love’s head, and another one.

Chasten brought one hand down to lazily swirl in the bubbles, lifting them up to watch the water slip between his fingers. His eyes had involuntarily drifted to Peter’s brown hair, and before he knew what he was doing, suddenly, there was a pile of tiny bubbles upon Peter’s head. He held back a laugh and scooped another clump of bubbles out of the water to join the pile, quietly counting to himself how long it would take Peter to notice.

A “Whatcha doing?” rumbled across his chest, and he looked down to see that Peter had opened his eyes—although it looked like he was struggling to keep them open—to peer up at Chasten inquisitively, fond amusement on his face.

Chasten had stopped his count at six seconds.

“Um…” he trailed off. “I’m not sure, exactly.” They chuckled together, not really sure what else to make of the situation.

“Wait, turn towards me for a sec,” Chasten said. Peter sat up slightly and turned his head so he was looking directly at Chasten. Chasten snorted at the sight of a crown of bubbles upon his head.

“You look lovely, my dear,” he muttered sarcastically, making Peter roll his eyes in amusement.

“Obviously. Bubble crowns are all the rage,” Peter quipped back, making them both laugh at their childishness. Chasten washed the bubbles from his hair and let Peter relax against him again.

Basking in the high levels of serotonin in his system, and feeling the tipsy effects of both the champagne and the glass of wine he had at dinner, Peter really couldn’t help himself when he lifted his right hand to cradle Chasten’s right cheek to bring his head down, his own head tilted back in invitation of a kiss. The angle was awkward at first, but it was quickly remedied as their lips slipped between the other’s, one of them swallowing the other’s low hum of pleasure. 

Chasten slinked his arms around Peter’s middle, interlocking his fingers beneath the water to urge him closer, each touch feeling more intimate than the last. The feel of Peter like this, warm and vulnerable against him, kissing him like they had all the time in the world, was one of his favorite things on a long list when it came to his husband. 

Peter gently stroked Chasten’s cheek and took the kiss just a little bit deeper, loving the soft feel of sweeping tongues and lips and vibrations from low moans. 

From a few weeks into their relationship, Peter had learned what he had seriously been missing out on about how fun kissing could be. Sometimes it was the lustful, hungry kissing that got his heart hammering and clothes flying across the room within minutes, or even seconds. Other times it was like this, the warm, tender, sleepy kissing that made him want to never come up for air again, no reason seeming good enough if they all involved separating his lips from Chasten’s. He hoped he would never get used to the thrill of making out with the love of his life.

Chasten trailed his lips off to lazily mouth against Peter’s stubbly jawline, whispering, “I want to try a thing. Do you trust me?” against his skin.

“Always,” Peter breathed back, eyes still closed.

“Lean back against my chest again for me,” he said, tapping his sternum in indication.

Peter reluctantly pulled away from the feel of his lips and twisted back around, lifting himself up a little more from where he had sunken beneath the water and perched himself against that spot on Chasten’s chest. Once he was settled, Chasten lightly rubbed his fingers slowly up and down Peter’s biceps, easing what little tension there was from them. He watched the water droplets trail down the skin before lifting his hands up to Peter’s face.

Using small, circular strokes, Chasten gently massaged Peter’s temples, working his way across his cheekbones, running the side of his finger down the bridge of his nose until he felt Peter just completely melt into him with a blissed out sigh. He delicately pressed up the area between his eyebrows and rubbed around his forehead, fingers never stopping their small, circular motions.

“How do you feel, babe?” Chasten asked as he moved back down Peter’s temples to his jawline, though he felt he knew the answer judging from the complete lack of tension in Peter’s muscles.

“Feels _wonderful_ ,” Peter purred out, the “wonderful” coming out in a way that made Chasten’s stomach flip. 

He pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek and, making sure he stayed upright, rose out of the tub a bit to reach over and grab the small bottle of shampoo on the vanity before settling back in the water. 

“What are you doing?” Peter sighed out, eyes still closed and head tilted to the side slightly like a puppy.

“Why are you still questioning me?” Chasten smoothly shot back.

Peter blew a breath of a laugh—agreement—through his nose in response, defenses masterfully let down by his marvelous, talented husband.

Chasten drizzled a generous helping of shampoo all over Peter’s hair before putting the small bottle back on the floor next to their champagne glasses. He began to scrub all over Peter’s scalp, on the crown, behind his ears, running his fingers along the nape of his neck and then starting the process all over again. Peter had basically turned to mush at this point, letting out a blissful groan at random intervals. He had long ago accepted the fact that he was helpless when Chasten was running his fingers through his hair.

After spending a little time kneading his earlobes (with a high-pitched sigh escaping from somewhere deep within Peter’s chest), Chasten leaned over to the vanity, the plastic cup just barely in reach, and unwrapped it. He reached around to turn on the tap to fill the cup with clean, warmer water, then gently tilted Peter’s head back and let the water cascade down, rinsing the shampoo from his husband’s thick hair.

Peter hadn’t reopened his eyes yet. It felt too exquisite. Chasten saw a visible shiver run down Peter’s back, the sensuality of it all supercharging the air around them.

By the third pour they both were nearly half hard, but there was no urgency for anything. It was late, they had nowhere to be except here in the tub, intimately pressed against each other, fingers slowly tracing over skin in delicate, nonsensical patterns. They had no idea what time it was, and they didn’t care.

Chasten leaned over to kiss Peter’s forehead, then his mouth. They could have sat there forever.


	7. The Third Day of the Honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here I was thinking that this chapter was longer than chapter 5 but alas, it's 200 words shorter. ah well.

“I miss those sunglasses.”

“Peter, we’ll buy you another, _better_ pair. I promise.”

“It just won’t be the same.”

“You’re right, because these ones you’ll actually look good in.” Chasten couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped with his confession.

They continued walking, a few seconds of silence lingering between them.

“I can’t believe a monkey stole my sunglasses.”

The slight pout in his voice and look on his face set Chasten off with laughter all over again.

The newlyweds had just returned from their early morning hike (at least that’s what they’re calling it since they got up before twelve), amazingly getting out of the hotel room by ten-thirty; there might have been a brief delay that their libidos were to blame for. After grabbing a light breakfast and being pointed in the right direction by the concierge, they found the hiking trail in no time and set off.

They had come to an overlook with a large patch of some of the biggest palm trees either of them had ever seen. Amazed, Chasten made Peter stand behind one of the giant fronds that almost covered his entire body, his head the only thing visible as Chasten stood back to take a couple pictures. Peter had taken his sunglasses off for the photo and was holding them in his hand when he felt something tugging from that direction. Before he knew what to do with himself, he whipped around, uselessly grasping at the air as he watched a literal monkey joyfully leaping away with his five-year-old pair of sunglasses in hand. When he turned back around in shock, not quite knowing how to react when a monkey steals your sunglasses, he was met with his husband doubled over in laughter, much to Peter’s chagrin.

Chasten was also basking in the fact that he would never have to see the love of his life adorn those ugly ass sunglasses again, not that he would ever say that to Peter, of course.

Which left them here, currently on their way to the huge pool on the resort to cool down from the hike in after coming back and changing into their swim trunks. Chasten finally got a grip on himself when he felt Peter tug his hand to walk faster, just the slightest bit tired of hearing his husband make fun of him for allowing a monkey to steal his sunglasses right out of his hand. ( _"H_ _e came out of nowhere!”_ Peter had insisted.)

The Olympic-sized pool was basically empty as they put their towels and shirts, along with Chasten’s glasses, down on two vacant lounge chairs. Peter dove in first, swimming all the way to the shallow end before coming up for air. Chasten followed in after he was at a reasonable distance away and swam up to him.

When he surfaced, Peter was floating on his back, eyes closed to the sun and arms perpendicular, looking as content as could be. So, naturally, Chasten snuck up and put one arm under his knees and another on his back, and pulled him into his chest so he was cradling him. Peter smiled and opened his eyes, raising his eyebrows while wrapping his arms around his husband’s shoulders.

“Hello, my love,” he quipped, amused at the suddenness of their situation.

“Hi,” Chasten replied with a grin.

They smiled at each other, squinty eyes and all, communicating without saying a word.

Peter leaned in for what was supposed to be a peck but turned into a series of kisses so sweet it was almost criminal. Lips folded against each other over and over before one of them started giggling, and then they both were, still attempting to kiss each other through their smiles.

Newlywed bliss was clearly in full swing. That one line from Father Brian’s sermon rang through Peter’s head: Love can be found in the spaces “between the divine and the mundane.” And Peter realized what he meant—moments like these, laughing over absolutely nothing but the absurdity of the level of their happiness, in the middle of a week that had, in some inexplicable way, brought him closer to what it means to feel God’s love every time he looked over at Chasten bathed in moonlight, sound asleep, clutching Peter’s arm to his chest with a platinum ring on his left hand. It was transcendent.

He pulled away from the kiss, his throat suddenly tight. Chasten’s hair was slicked back from the way he had surfaced from the water and there were little sparkly droplets slowly making their way down the muscles of his neck and shoulders. He had that look in his eyes, as blue and clear as the water, that signified how truly happy he was holding his husband in his arms. God, Peter was in deep. 

“I think I’ve cooled off enough,” Peter said, breathing a bit heavily. “What do you think about trying out the jacuzzi over there?” flicking his eyes over to where it was hidden behind palm trees before flicking back to his husband.

“Yes,” Chasten agreed, suddenly finding it just a little more difficult to take a normal breath. As they strolled over to where the spa was, he wiped away thoughts that were too inappropriate to be contemplating in a public setting.

Secluded behind more massive palm fronds that this part of the island seemed to inhabit, they came face to face with a blessedly vacant jacuzzi and a view of the ocean beyond the wall the spa was built against. The waves made their presence known crashing into the rocks about forty feet below them.

They slipped in slowly, giving their bodies time to adjust to the new heat after just coming out of an eighty two-degree pool. Peter floated over to Chasten and landed on his lap, effectively straddling him where he was sitting on the bench and looped his arms back around his neck. The look Chasten gave him as their eyes met had faded from the sweet, happy demeanor he had had in the pool to a more quietly pleased look. Peter was never usually this outwardly affectionate in public, but clearly the endorphin high they had been on all week, and the privacy of the location of the jacuzzi, had flipped a switch inside him.

Peter avoided the flip-flop his heart did inside his chest at Chasten’s look and leaned in, the long, sultry kiss quickly turning into a make out session as hot as the temperature of the jacuzzi water.

Fingers tangled themselves in wet hair and arms ran restlessly over skin. Chasten let out a low hum of arousal when Peter sucked a kiss on that one spot beneath his ear, the jet directly on his lower back doing nothing to calm him down until he placed a hand on Peter’s neck to reluctantly pull him away. Taking deep breaths, he noticed himself becoming physically aroused at the same time Peter did, not too far behind. Their eyes met.

“Maybe we should take this back to the room,” Chasten said, posing it as more of a statement than a question.

Peter agreed with a breathless “yeah” and an encouraging nod, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of lust. He took another few seconds to steady himself, and climbed off Chasten’s lap and out of the spa, giving Chasten a hand so he could follow closely behind.

Anticipation crackled between them like a flame from the moment they made eye contact as they dried themselves off to the short walk back to their room. Hands brushed against each other, setting off little sparks of electricity like they did on that first date, now seeming like a lifetime ago. Only now the electricity was more frenzied because they knew what came next.

Chasten pressed Peter up against the door as soon as it was shut, Peter’s breath catching before giving it back as good as he got it. Shirts and swim trunks were nearly torn off at an impossible pace, feverish mouths barely separating from each other on their stumbling trek to the bed, freshly made by housekeeping. _What a shame._

Chasten nudged Peter to sit down on the edge of the bed and fell to his knees between Peter’s legs, wasting no time to lean in and take him in his mouth. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of hearing that sound that emits from Peter’s mouth each time he does this; it always sent a bolt of heat through his body, and this time was no exception.

Chasten alternated between swallowing him down and devouring him with generous licks around the shaft and head. Peter’s sweet gasps and moans only encouraged him, Chasten looking absolutely sinful when he looked up at him from beneath his lashes. 

Peter let a groan as he felt Chasten fondle his balls in one hand, head dropping to his chest. He knew exactly what Peter needed when they were in this collective headspace and knew _all_ of the tricks to get him there.

Chasten reveled in the way Peter stared at him through heavy lids, the hand in his hair tightening its grip as he took Peter deeper, tightening his lips and sucking, slowly, to drag it out. He shifted to get a hand on himself as Peter moaned his name, doing things to him he could not begin to describe.

“Fuck, love,” Peter breathed, a hand in Chasten’s hair. Chasten tried very hard not to think of the juxtaposition of that sentence and how much it turned him on. “You have to stop or I’m not going to last long.”

He made sure to give one last tight, slow suck before pulling off with a lewd _pop_. Peter dragged him up by his jaw for a filthy kiss, moaning at the taste of himself on his lover’s tongue. Together, they ambled their way up towards the pillows, only coming up for air when absolutely necessary.

Peter wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist to pull him down against him, their centers grinding together deliciously. He felt a strong hand wrap under his thigh to pull him impossibly closer, teeth biting lips and tongues desperately curling against each other. 

Peter’s hands reached down to grab two handfuls of Chasten’s ass, loving the sexy groan that was released from his throat. He brought a hand up to Chasten’s shoulder and shoved, rolling them over so Peter was now straddling Chasten’s hips.

Chasten looked up at him, momentarily dazed at their new position before Peter smirked and leaned down to draw out a long, deep kiss. Chasten’s hands flew to bury themselves in Peter’s hair as Peter made his way down, sucking hot kisses along his jawline and neck. He tried to pull his husband back up to reconnect their mouths, but Peter wasn’t having it, instead linking their fingers together and pressing them to the mattress as he continued to press open-mouthed kisses down Chasten’s stomach.

Chasten felt another bolt of heat ricochet through him at the feel of Peter pinning him down like this, the feel of forced submissiveness something he wasn’t used to. Most times during foreplay, it was almost already decided who would top just based on the mood and the energy, but this was a mood unlike any other. There was a palpable dominant energy strong between the both of them—something that did not happen often. The fire was burning bright between the two of them, only being stoked higher with each gasp and touch and suck.

When wet heat enveloped him, his mind blanked out, Peter the only thought consuming him. Peter released one of his hands to push Chasten’s hips down—which he hadn’t realized had arched up—and used the leverage to keep him still as he took him in as far as he could, their combined moans emanating throughout the room.

When Chasten felt the crown of his dick hit the back of Peter’s throat for the third time, he used his free hand that had been helplessly gripping the sheets to grip Peter’s hair and pull him off, not in the mood to be teased anymore. He pulled him up towards him, Peter releasing his other hand, and leaned up to kiss him but stopped short and flipped them back over, catching Peter off-guard.

He leaned back in and actually kissed him this time, slow and deep, before grabbing his wrists whose hands had been gripping onto his back and pinning them on either side of Peter’s head. He sat up and moved his hips down in a dirty grind, eyes boring into Peter’s as if daring him to move. The only response Peter gave was a gasp and a whine that Chasten savored.

“Turn over,” Chasten growled into Peter's ear, sending a visible shiver throughout his lover’s entire body.

Peter resettled himself on his knees, supporting himself on his forearms. He pressed his forehead into the pillows and shut his eyes, his breathing already heavy in anticipation of waiting for Chasten to touch him.

When Peter arched his back invitingly, Chasten had to take a few moments to revel in how gorgeous his husband looked spread out for him like this, practically begging him to make a move. Peter was never one to get too vulnerable with others, but when he and Chasten were alone together, it was like a switch was flipped where he allowed himself to tear down all his walls and just let go. It was beautiful.

Everything happened pretty quickly after that. Chasten grabbed the lube they had left out on the nightstand (they were definitely going to be leaving a very generous tip for housekeeping at the end of the week) and made quick work of prep, hitting all the right spots to keep Peter moaning and gasping for breath. At one point Chasten had to stop the movement of his fingers to tell Peter to breathe, letting him take a few deep breaths before nodding his thanks.

Peter loved how Chasten always took care of him during sex. Even when Peter topped, Chasten made it a point to lean up to suck kisses onto his throat or rake his nails down Peter’s back to indicate to him how good of a job he was doing. Or even during times like these, when they were both practically begging for it or they weren't facing each other, Chasten ensured Peter knew he was safe. He would press his palms into Peter's back to feel every bump of vertebrae and grain of muscle, place soft kisses down his spine, or whisper sweet everythings into his ear. Feeling physically cared for was one of the things that had always made sex so good between them, something that Peter was certified to never take for granted.

By the time he was three fingers deep he could tell that Peter was ready by the way he had relaxed so quickly under Chasten’s fingers to his needy moans that were threatening to turn into whines at any second. He lubed himself up and pushed in as slowly as he could given the urgency they both felt. He gave Peter time to adjust by kissing the very top of his spine, trying to ignore how painfully hard he was and how wonderfully hot Peter felt around him with hands restlessly clutching the sheets.

Peter reached a hand back to tap on Chasten's hip, silently urging him to move. Chasten lifted that hand to his lips to kiss the back of it—another loving reminder. But he didn’t need to be told twice and started to move, wasting no time to set a devastating pace that lit all their nerve endings on fire.

Although he had a pretty good idea judging by the little high-pitched moans sounding from his husband’s throat, he still asked, “Does that feel good?”

“I— _ah!—_ babe, fuck _yes_. So good,” Peter gasped out. Chasten leaned over him, pressing his chest to Peter's back, one hand gripping at his hips, while the other was splayed out across Peter's pecs, holding him impossibly closer. He brushed his nose to the bottom of Peter's hairline, letting his heavy, hot breath roll down Pete's neck.

“Good,” Chasten hummed. Chasten took Peter's words as an invitation to fuck him harder, deeper. He dropped one more kiss to Peter's back, then picked himself up. He held onto Peter's hips with both hands to keep him still, and hungrily pushed in and out of him, giving him that good, hard fuck they both wanted.

Chasten shifted slightly in his thrusts, making Peter spasm around him, emitting a wordless shout. He tried to focus on Peter’s pleasure more than his own and did his best to keep the angle so he could hear more of those beautiful, desperate noises from his lover, never able to get enough of him. 

Earlier that morning, they had fleetingly joked about how anyone ever returned to their normal lives after their honeymoon, which they agreed is basically just a sex vacation. Their laughter did something to the way their bodies had been entangled and quickly decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.

Peter had his cheek pressed into the pillows with his mouth agape letting a continuous strand of wanting noises spill out with each push into him. His eyes were screwed shut, a little worried that if he opened them, he would become dizzy with the aching pleasure that was quickly overwhelming him more by the second. He felt the familiar coil in the pit of his belly tighten deliciously and knew that it would not be long.

“Fu—Chasten I— _please_ , I’m close. I’m so close,” he whined out.

“You’re close, baby?” Chasten breathed, almost mockingly.

Peter bit down on his lower lip, his back arching evermore, pushing his hips back to meet Chasten’s in every thrust. “Yes, God, yes!” he moaned, neither of them really sure if he was answering Chasten’s teasing question or just momentarily submitting to his pleasure.

“Beg for it,” Chasten said into his ear, barely holding on himself. “Convince me to let you come.”

Peter cursed. He loved it when Chasten got in this headspace, and Chasten knew it, too. There wasn’t a time where it didn’t make him hot--sweetness absent from his voice, Peter helpless to anything Chasten wanted to do to him. There was nothing sweet about this; this was pure lust—dirty, hot, raw lust.

“Fuck, please let me come, babe. God, you’re—” _gasp_ “—you feel so fucking good, please, _ah—_ ”

Chasten slipped a hand in below them to tug at Peter’s leaking cock with a grip that he knew was just on the right side of too much and then he was gone. He watched adoringly as he felt Peter shudder around him divinely and spilling out onto his hand and the sheets.

It took everything in Chasten not to finish inside Peter, crying out but holding back as Peter spasmed on his cock. He gave a couple more thrusts for good measure before pulling out, letting Peter flop back over to face him. He moved into Peter's arms where he lay breathless, shaking and whimpering with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Peter peeked his eyes open, something which appeared to take great effort, and looked at Chasten’s blue ones, then his penis, still pink and hard, confused. “Did you…?” he panted out.

Chasten shushed him and pressed a kiss to his lips and over each eyelid, effectively shutting him up as his eyes closed once more, too heavy to remain open.

He moved on top of a still-quivering Peter, eyes shut and the sounds of his desperate gasps in an attempt to get his breath back an aphrodisiac. He settled between his legs, lifting them to wrap high up around his waist. Fumbling around for the long forgotten bottle to pour some more lube into his hand, he coated his cock with a liberal amount, trying not to wince at the sensitivity. He nudged one arm under Peter’s back to hold them firmly against each other, teasing his dick in between Peter’s cheeks. Peter’s breath caught.

“Look at me,” Chasten said, a bit of an edge to his voice.

Peter recognized the tone and opened his eyes the bare minimum amount necessary to lock onto Chasten’s.

“Is this okay?” Chasten asked clearly. He needed to know if Peter could handle this, although he was pretty sure he knew what the answer would be.

“Fuck yes,” Peter breathed, nodding. “Do it.”

Chasten smiled against his cheek, marveling at how his beautiful husband, who had just come for England hard enough to see stars, could still be so hungry for him. He was so in love with this insatiable man of his.

Pressed skin to skin, Chasten slowly breached his entrance for the second time in only a few minutes, the way that Peter’s legs were wrapped around him making it feel so much tighter than before. They both cried out at the scorching heat.

“Oh my—oh fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Peter grit out, still sensitive and not fully come down from his high, the thick intrusion intense and overwhelming.

Chasten could barely contain his composure, the tightness making him feel like he could burst any second. He inhaled deeply, determined to make Peter come a second time before he did.

“Jesus _fuck_ , babe. You feel so fucking good… like Heaven,” Chasten moaned, mouthing more open-mouthed kisses to Peter’s neck. “You feel good and full?”

Peter nodded, past the ability to form words.

Chasten soothingly ran his hand through Peter’s hair while pressing more kisses to his neck, his cheeks, his lips, everywhere he could reach. He wanted— _needed—_ Peter to know that he was going to take care of him. “Tell me when I can move.”

Peter had to take a couple deep breaths before he exhaled on a shudder, interrupted by Chasten licking a thin stripe up the shell of his ear. “You can move, love,” he gasped. “Please. Do it.”

There wasn’t much that Peter could do with Chasten holding him so tightly against him other than lie there and take it, but he certainly tried to with the little remaining strength he had, meeting Chasten’s sharp thrusts with little ones of his own. The near-immobility only heightened the sensations. Without warning, Chasten changed his angle upward again and Pete yelped, nearly every one of Chasten’s thrusts assaulting his raw prostate.

Chasten smirked through his gasps. “That feel good?” he murmured in his ear.

“Fu-fucking _yes_ ,” Peter cried into the expanse of the bedroom, the rough desire and oversensitivity setting him on fucking fire, torn between wanting to push him away and telling him not to stop, _God, please, never stop_.

Chasten alternated between fucking reaming him and slower, more sensual thrusts to try to calm himself down. He wanted to make Peter come again before he does, using his built-up tolerance to draw it out, keep Peter on the edge until he’s wrung out and begging. There's nothing that could set him off more.

All of their senses are in overdrive. Peter’s legs were flexing and stretching uncontrollably. He was completely at Chasten’s mercy with toes curled and heels digging into his lower back in pleasure the entire time. The intimacy of being pressed so thoroughly together made Chasten’s chest ache. The tight, grasping heat of Peter was almost unbearable and their breaths were sharp and stuttering from pleasure. Peter miraculously started to feel the muscles in his lower belly tighten agonizingly for the second time in nearly ten minutes.

“Chas—please, I, _ah_ \--I can’t, it—oh _sh-shit_ ,” he gasped out, the ability to form complete words out the window long ago as the milking of his oversensitive prostate turned his moans into whines. “Too much.”

“Say the word, Peter, and I’ll stop,” Chasten groaned. “Tap my shoulder if you can’t speak.” Chasten keened at the hands clutching his back, his hair, emitting a hot whine from the back of Peter’s larynx and a stubborn shake of the head. “Come for me again. I know you have one more in you.”

Chasten pounded a particularly sharp thrust into his husband and Peter yelled out a loud moan, clenching his walls along Chasten’s thick length. The tight, searing grip making Chasten suck in a gasp, barely holding on by a thread. Peter smiled through a sharp gasp.

“Make me,” he grit out.

The knowledge that his insatiable husband was clearly on the edge and still tried to exert some form of dominance made his insides twist and tighten in all the best ways.

He reached between them and fondled Peter’s balls, pounding right up against his prostate, pulling sexy, urgent little whines from Peter. He sank his teeth into his lover’s shoulder not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark. That did it for Peter as the sensory overload suddenly became too much and he shook and came all over himself for the second time within the hour. Loud.

Peter’s cry (thank God they remembered to shut the windows before they left earlier) and the feel of his nails raking down his back, the clench of his ass pushed Chasten over the edge and the orgasm that he’s denied himself hit him in full force, moaning his husband’s name into the air around them as he came, and came. And came.

His throat was raw when he finally came back from cloud nine and pulled out, murmuring an apology at Peter’s wince. He collapsed next to Peter, closing his eyes as they each shakily came down from their highs. Peter’s whimpers from his second round of aftershocks tugged at Chasten’s chest and he turned his head to look at his husband.

His face and chest were flushed and glistening with a droplet of sweat trickling down his temple. His chest was heaving and his hands were curled in loose fists at his sides, as if the sensation of the hands resting on his stomach would be too overwhelming. He had both congealed and fresh come matted along the line of hair beneath his belly button and further up his stomach.

 _Jesus Christ, Peter_ , Chasten thought to himself, pleased that he was the cause of this beautiful mess.

He ran a finger across Peter’s flushed cheek, wiping away the droplet of sweat on his temple. Through his heavy breaths, Peter opened one eye to look at Chasten and smiled—an exhausted smile, but a smile nonetheless. Chasten felt himself exhale a sigh of relief that he hadn’t realized he had been holding and softly smiled back.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing damp strands away from Peter’s forehead.

“Fucking great,” Peter breathed, getting them both to laugh.

“I know I was a bit rough there…” Chasten trailed off, still petting Peter’s hair back. He was still a bit dazed at what had come over them, and he knew that if anything ever hurt, Peter would say so. But still.

“It was perfect,” Peter breathed, fully opening his eyes to look at Chasten. “You were perfect.”

He reached up to weakly take Chasten’s hand that had been stroking his hair in his own and pressed a kiss to each knuckle, making Chasten’s heart flutter.

“Be right back, okay?” Chasten murmured after a little bit, pressing a soft kiss to Peter’s forehead. Peter gave a small nod of acknowledgement before closing his eyes once more, still trying to catch his breath, not that Chasten was doing any better on that front.

He cleaned himself off in the bathroom and brought a glass of water and a warm, damp hand towel back to the bed. He kneeled between Peter’s legs to clean him up as gently as he could--also making sure that there was no tearing from how rough they had gone at it-- before crawling up to wipe the sweat from his face and chest with the other side. Peter smiled up at him gratefully.

Chasten didn’t think he would ever get used to that warm, squinty-eyed Look Peter gave him, that “I’m so grateful that you’re here and I hope you know how much I adore you” kind of Look.

He tossed the towel towards a random corner before reaching for the glass of water.

“Finish the glass for me, okay?” he asked as Peter drank, keeping a hand near the glass just in case. 

Afterwards, he tapped Peter’s hip, silently indicating for him to move so they could fold the soiled comforter back along the bottom of the bed. Chasten went over to open the windows to get the ocean breeze flowing through the room, as well as so the room wouldn’t reek entirely of sex, he freely admitted to himself before crawling under the sheets with his sated husband. 

They laid there in comfortable quiet, Peter’s head on Chasten’s chest tucked under his chin, tracing patterns on his skin. Chasten brushed the tips of his fingers across the top of his love’s cheekbone and down the jawline, as if searching for an imperfection and finding none in his eyes, before resting a gentle thumb on his cheek. Peter nuzzled into the comforting touch. 

“Beautiful,” Chasten whispered.

The look on Peter’s face was as bright as the sun shining through the windows. 

Chasten was on the verge of sleep when he heard Peter mumble, “You’re really good at that.”

Chasten snorted. “What, sex? Or just making you come?” he asked dryly, rubbing Peter’s bicep resting across his middle.

“Both. All of it,” Peter replied. He paused. “Loving me the way you do.”

Chasten stopped his patterns on Peter’s arm and looked down at him. Peter was gazing up at him with such a _fond_ expression on his face, blue eyes catching the afternoon sun. He looked so lovely.

Chasten tilted Peter’s chin up with a finger and kissed him once, twice; a sweet kiss leading nowhere except here in each other’s arms. He ran a hand along Peter’s neck, softly rubbing his thumb against it.

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Peter smiled. The Look was back. “I love you, too.”

With an adventurous and sweaty day behind them (at least partly), the newlyweds succumbed to their exhaustion, a long nap in due order, with their rumbling stomachs the only things to awaken them hours later. They chuckled as they made sure to rid their entryway of their hastily discarded clothing before room service arrived. Enjoying their meal in their plush hotel robes out on the lanai, they talked about everything and nothing while listening to the ocean waves, exchanging kisses in between the bite-sized fruit from their dessert, marveling at the sunset and at each other.

Settling down into bed later after a shower, they joked about how they really should make more of an effort to get out and explore the island while they still had time, or at least the rest of the resort. Peter made a joke about how he wasn’t too sure if he would even be able to move tomorrow after their midday romp earlier, not entirely kidding, which only made them laugh and snuggle closer. Mouths pressed to shoulders, cheeks, heads; noses pressed to noses and into necks as they shifted throughout the night. 

They slept soundly, bathed in moonlight, comforted by the knowledge that their love was just an arm’s length away, just like it would be always.

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to Buttispams for letting me help out with this fic. hope it was worth the wait. thanks for reading. x


End file.
